


The Story of Lily, Lark, and Loaf

by NaomiLibicki



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animal Companions, Gen, Gods Being Dicks, Original Fairy Tale, Rocks Fall Everyone Dies, rule of three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiLibicki/pseuds/NaomiLibicki
Summary: This is the story of the man who cut a branch from the wrong tree.





	The Story of Lily, Lark, and Loaf

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I originally wrote as a story-within-a-story; there’s a point in a book I wrote where the characters are sitting around telling stories, and this is the one that one of the characters tells.
> 
> That was the first novel I ever (kind of, sort of) finished, and maybe I will revise it and do it properly some day, where I don’t get to the end and realize that a bunch of stuff had to happen in the beginning that I never wrote, but until then, here is the story of Lily, Lark, and Loaf. (Warning: it’s a fairy tale. And not like one of the nice kinds of fairy tale.)

This is the story of the man who cut a branch from the wrong tree.

There was a man named Benta, and his father was Gervasia, and his father was Senna, and his father was Joa, and his father was Foolish Benta, and his father was Calixta, and his father’s fathers came from the land of the Getamee. Now, Benta was a woodcutter, and when he was young and strong and the trees were plentiful, he was able to put aside some money. So he built himself a house, and took himself a wife, and lived very happily. And in time, she bore him a daughter, who was as beautiful as a white flower among brown bracken, so they called her Lily. The next year, she bore another daughter, who was as beautiful as birdsong at dawn, so they called her Lark. And then she bore a third daughter, who was as beautiful as fresh bread after a hard day’s work, so they called her Loaf. And then Benta’s wife died.

As the years went by, Benta’s daughters grew taller and more beautiful, but he himself grew older and weaker, until he did not know how he would feed them all. Then, one morning, Lily came to him, and said, ‘Father, last night I dreamed of a great ram, with curling yellow horns and a coat like fine flour.’

Benta knew that it was a very lucky thing to dream of an animal, and he said to himself, ‘Now she is sure to make her fortune.’ But to Lily he only said, 'And what did he say to you?’

'Only that when I go out to seek my fortune, I should be sure to take the wooden bucket which we use to bring water from the well,’ she said.

So that same day, Lily embraced her father and her sisters, and, taking nothing with her but a flask of water, a slice of bread, and the wooden bucket, set out to seek her fortune. She had not gone more than five miles when she heard sheep bleating. She followed the sound, climbing up hills and down into clefts until she found a flock of sheep, lost and stranded on a ledge, and thirsty. The wooden bucket was heavy on her arm, and when she looked, she saw it was full of water. So she poured it out, and the more she poured, the more it filled, until there was a stream running down the side of the hillside. When the sheep had drunk their fill, they followed Lily out of the cleft. And after that Lily lived in the hills, and tended her sheep, but one ewe she sent home to her father and sisters.

For a while Benta, Lark, and Loaf lived contentedly, for the ewe gave milk, and they had cheese and butter to eat. And when her milk stopped, Benta slaughtered the ewe, and sold her hide for flour, and they ate bread and mutton. But presently the bread and mutton ran out, and then Benta did not know how he would feed them all.

Then Lark came and said to him, 'Father, last night I dreamed of a great gander, with a sharp red beak and wings like storm clouds.’

Knowing the luck that Lily had had, Benta was doubly cheered, and he said to himself, 'This time Lark is sure to make her fortune.’ But to Lark he only said, 'And what did he say to you?' 

'Only that when I go out to seek my fortune, I should be sure to take the stalk of mint that grows outside our door,’ she said.

So that same day, Lark embraced her father and sister, and, taking nothing with her but a flask of water, a slice of bread, and the stalk of mint, set out to seek her fortune. She had walked for ten miles, and was sitting down by the shore of a lake to eat her supper, when she saw dark green flashes against the light green grass. She crept closer, and saw a nest of goslings hidden in the reeds, and five vipers attacking the young birds. So she threw the stalk of mint that she had in her hand, and each leaf became an arrow, and each arrow pierced a viper in the eye, and killed it. When the older geese returned from browsing in the meadow, Lark shared out her bread among them, and they all agreed that she made a fine companion. And after that Lark lived by the lake, and tended her geese, but one goose she sent home to her father and sister.

For a while Benta and Loaf lived contentedly, for they had eggs to eat. And when the goose stopped laying, Benta slaughtered her, and sold her feathers for beans, and they ate pottage and goose. But presently the pottage and goose ran out, and then Benta did not know how he would feed himself and his daughter.

Then Loaf came and said to him, 'Father, last night I dreamed of my mother.’

Benta knew that it was a very unlucky thing to dream of someone who had died, and he said to himself, 'Before the year is up she is sure to die herself.’

But to Loaf he only said, 'And what did she say to you?’

'Only that when I go out to seek my fortune, I should be sure to take a staff cut from the tree with the red heart that grows in the center of the forest,’ she said.

So that same day, Benta embraced his daughter with a heavy heart, and, taking nothing with him but a flask of water, a slice of bread, and his axe, set out for the forest to find the tree with the red heart.

Benta walked fifteen miles, until he could no longer see the sun through the trees, but he still had not reached the center of the forest. So he ate his bread, and drank his water, and slept. And the next day, he walked again until the sun was beginning to set, and at last he stood in the center of the forest, where the tree with the red heart grew.

But when Benta saw the great tree in the middle of its clearing – for not even mushrooms grew in the ground that its gnarled roots touched – when he smelled the rust-and-saltwater scent of its sap, and heard the slow beating of its heart, his nerve failed him. Then he said to himself, 'Why shouldn’t I cut a staff from a different tree instead? And how would Loaf know if I did? And after all,’ he added, beginning to warm up to this idea, 'perhaps this way I can save her life, for if a tree ever brought bad luck, it was surely this one.’ So he chose another tree nearby, a straight, sturdy one, and cut off one of its lower branches.

No sooner had he done so, than the Mother of us all spoke to him. 'Did you think to cheat Me, Benta Gervasia?’ She said. 'Then you are a fool; for all return to Me in time, but now it will go hard with you.’

Then Benta knew that it was not his dead wife who had spoken to Loaf in her dream, but Herself. And he was afraid, and would have cut a staff from the tree with the red heart after all, but when he turned around he could no longer see it. And as much as he searched for it, the less he found it, until there was nothing for him to do but go home with the staff he had cut.

But he had not walked a mile before the sun set completely, and he could go no further; so he lay down and slept. 

He woke in darkness, to the sound of something moving in the forest. He couldn’t see it, but he heard its heavy breath near the spot where he lay, and he said to himself, 'It is a wolf come to eat me up, but it will not find me such easy meat as that.’ So he reached for his axe, but his hand fell on the staff he had cut instead. Snatching it up, he swung it towards the sound, and felt it hit solidly. The creature cried out – not a wolflike snarl, but a human cry – and thereafter was silent, and presently Benta slept again.

When he awoke, he saw neither body nor blood, neither wolf nor man, but only a few short pieces of wood, and two copper bands that might have once held them together. 'Well,’ he said to himself, 'that is strange.’ Then he picked up his axe and the staff, and continued on his way home. But though he walked all day, until he could no longer see the sun through the trees, he still did not reach his house; so once more he lay down on the forest floor and slept.

He woke in darkness, to the sound of something moving in the forest. He couldn’t see it, but he heard its soft slither through the undergrowth where he lay, and he said to himself, 'It is a viper come to bite me, but it will not find me such easy meat as that.’ So he reached for his axe, but his hand fell on the staff he had cut instead. Snatching it up, he drove it down it towards the sound, and felt it crush flesh and bone. The creature cried out – not a serpentlike hiss, but a human cry – and thereafter was silent, and presently Benta slept again.

When he awoke, he saw neither body nor blood, neither viper nor man, but only a trampled patch of mint. 'Well,’ he said to himself, 'that is strange.’ Then he picked up his axe and the staff, and continued on his way; and he had not gone five miles before he reached his house.

Loaf ran out to meet him, and embraced him. She was glad of his return, and gladder of the staff he had brought her. She would have taken it and set out to seek her fortune at once, but Benta said, 'It is too late today; stay one more night and leave tomorrow morning,’ and Loaf agreed.

Then Loaf said to Benta, 'The first day you were gone, my sister Lily came to visit me, and the next morning she left. Did you meet her on the way?’

Benta’s heart turned over in his chest, and he knew that it was not a wolf he had killed in the forest, but his daughter. But he only said, 'I never saw her.’

Then Loaf said, 'The second day you were gone, my sister Lark came to visit me, and the next morning she left. Did you meet her on the way?’

Benta’s heart turned over in his chest once more, and he knew that it was not a viper he had killed in the forest, but his daughter. But he only said, 'I never saw her.’

So Benta and Loaf passed the rest of that day in their house by the edge of the forest, as they had many other days before, and when the night fell they slept.

Benta woke in darkness, to the sound of something moving in the house. He couldn’t see it, but he heard its tread like the tread of a bear, and smelled its musk like the musk of a hunting cat, and he reached for his axe.

Then he remembered what he had done the previous night, and the night before, and he was heartsick. He let his hand fall, and he spoke instead: 'Who are you: man or beast or spirit? And what do you do in my house? Answer quickly, before I chop you up!’ But there was no answer.

Again he reached for his axe, but again he hesitated, and he said to himself,

'First let me see what I am about.’ So he grabbed a bundle of twigs instead, and thrust them into the last embers of the fire.

All at once, a gust of wind blew through the house, and the bundle of twigs that Benta held blazed so fiercely that it burned his hand, and set fire to his shirt. He shouted and flung the bundle away, and burning twigs landed in every corner of the house.

Then Loaf awoke and saw that her father was on fire, so she snatched off her kirtle, and threw it over him. This smothered the flames, and the two of them stood, Benta gasping in pain, Loaf dressed only in a shirt and clutching her staff, while the house burned around them.

Loaf made for the door, but the fire was there, and Benta took her arm and they climbed onto the table, where the smoke was thinner. He took Loaf’s staff and thrust it at the roof again and again, until he had opened a gap in the thatch wide enough to climb out. He scrambled onto the roof, and Loaf scrambled after. But being shorter than her father, she stuck halfway, and could not pull herself out.

By that time, the fire had caught her, and when Benta saw her twisted, burning fingers reaching for his own, his nerve failed him, and he pushed her away, back through the roof. She grabbed the staff, but it snapped in two, and she fell. Benta leapt from the roof and ran, leaving staff, house, and daughter to burn together.

Soon Benta could not run any longer. But although his steps slowed, he did not stop to rest for the rest of the night, nor the day after, until he came to the center of the forest, where the tree with the red heart grew.

He did not have the least difficulty in finding it. It stood in the middle of a wide clearing, for not even mushrooms grew in the ground that its gnarled roots touched. He smelled the rust-and-saltwater scent of its sap, and heard the slow beating of its heart, and he took his belt, and hanged himself from its lowest branch.

And that is the story of Lily, Lark, and Loaf, whose father was Benta, who cut a branch from the wrong tree.


End file.
